


Mirrored Dreams

by orphan_account



Category: Ever After High
Genre: Daring is mentioned but he's not important haha, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5915509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams like these are magic, she's sure. Not the kind of magic that lights fires or explodes walls, no, it's the kind of magic that worms inside your head and creeps within your every living thought. It's the kind of magic that knows your destiny before you even understand the word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrored Dreams

She sees her prince in her dreams. She never sees their face, no, not when dreams are weaved from the whispers and mist that crawl within her mind. Apple wishes she had magic sometimes, enough to turn them into a figure of marble and oak, clear enough for her to remember.

(Dreams like these are magic, she's sure. Not the kind of magic that lights fires or explodes walls, no, it's the kind of magic that worms inside your head and creeps within your every living thought. It's the kind of magic that knows your destiny before you even understood the word.)

It's a dream she's had for years, one that's been a more stable companion than her mother ever was, an embrace to fall into every night. A comfort that assures her over and over again that she's right, that there is a happily ever after waiting for her somewhere.

("Somewhere" is always the word. She wants to think of it as certain, an absolute that will happen in a few years, but with every step she takes that future feels less like a palace in the distance, and more a castle made of sand, just waiting for the tide to come in and destroy it.)

She keeps a diary about the dreams, and notes every lingering shard of memory. She tells herself it's for the thin whispery chance that she'll be able to use it to identify them.

(Really, she writes it because she wants to sink back into that world for a few more moments, wants to live in a world where sunlight cascades as thick and substantial as a waterfall. She wants to exist some where she doesn't have to convince herself that everything makes sense. She wants it like her lungs want air, less a simple desire and more a need for something that you would die without.)

Her prince doesn't glitter, like an icy river bare against the sun. No, her prince shines, sharper and harsher than a mirror left outside on a day when Summer roars in anticipation, when the air dives bladed down throats, and flames herald their oncoming birth. The shine is enough that Apple can never look straight at them.

(She tells herself that it must be Daring. It makes sense, really, he's a Charming, he's a knight, and no one is ever going to deny the fact that he shines. But as much as she tells herself that he must be the right one, there's a feathered whisper sneaking around in the corners of her mind that doesn't agree.)

The White Knight shines, not just light, but the rest of reality with it, shadows, colours and patterns. They are so much more normal than anything else in their world, a singular pillar of regularity within chaos.

(There's something about the armour that makes Apple feel weird, some strain of loose magic that tugs on her soul and echoes whispers in her mind, but no matter how much it speaks Apple still doesn't understand the language. She wonders what it is that is so fascinating about the Knight. She decides that it's the purity of their action, unlike Daring or any of the other princes Apple knows, the White Knight doesn't fight for their own glory or prestige. Apple hasn't even seen their face.)

{It might not be the purity, her mind whispers in the dark. They might be hiding something too.}

Darling gleams too, proud and glorious. She's more than proven herself, become a Knight even greater than her brother. She smiles too, but there is steel forged beneath that expression.

(Apple thinks that Darling must be well aware of her position. She's never going to be one of those whose glory is gilded in gold by the eyes of all who see her, no, she is the one who must plate her own happiness by hand. No matter how many times her hands get burnt.) 

[Every night after they return Apple wakes up with a storm roaring in her chest.]

{Her prince finally has a face.}

\--

Darling smiles gently when Apple finally sits her down and talks to her. She listens to every word that Apple frees from her chest, but Apple doesn't miss how tightly she grips the edge of the table, the flashes that dart across her eyes.

(Apple had to tear herself apart to understand, search among every shattered piece, and she doesn't feel anything like a poet when she speaks. Her words tumble out of her mouth like wet sand through fingers, thick and clumsy.)

[But the more Apple speaks, the broader Darling's smile becomes, until she's a beacon herself, no longer a mirror but the the sun itself.]

{Apple's dream fades, out of her nights and out of her memory. She doesn't need it anymore.}

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who is writing Darling/Apple flics instead of her Extension English creative.


End file.
